Variation on a Theme

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When I was in the last year of upper sixth I was obsessed with my maths teacher, Katherine Greene. She stuck out from a crowded bookshelf of worn out doctors and department heads that gathered dust in the staff room, dunking their Rich Teas and moaning about their subsidence and grandchildren. Katherine was in her forties, but she had the figure of a thirty year-old. Her perfect blonde hair would collect on the edge of her shoulder when she panned the classroom looking for hands. She used to prop her whiteboard marker against her cheek or the corner of her lips, like she was about to eat it when she stood at the front, listening to one of us go on about quadratic equations. I found everything she did exciting.

I was head of St. John’s at that time and I spent a lot of time organising stuff with the teachers for the rest of my House. I was somehow always meeting up with her, organising events and sports days and stuff. She related to me like we were the same age, joked with me, was friendly, forward even. I projected this air of maturity, determined to appear more sensible than my friends. I was an over-achiever and carried myself like one. Why not? I’d have to do it in the real world soon enough.

The thing was Katherine flirted with me. When I was younger my mum had told me that when a girl likes you, you can tell, but I knew it was a lot harder than people thought. Girls touched their hair, played with bottles — what was that meant to be? Katherine made it obvious. She’d lay down innuendo in conversation around loads of us, subtle stuff the girls wouldn’t get. She’d touch me on the shoulder, stand really close. I kept noticing her feet pointed toward me when we talked. I read that meant a woman was interested, even if she didn’t know it. But I bet Katherine knew it. She knew what she was doing breathing down my neck, shifting her hips at me, wetting her lips when I ran to her from the pitch.

“Hey you.” She said. “Have you got a plan for the scenery yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Do you want to come by the maths staff-room later and we’ll have a crack at it?”

I nodded.

“I know everyone’s looking at you to perform, but I think if you take a relaxed approach it’s much easier. Try it my way and we’ll see what comes up.”

What did she mean by ‘relaxed approach’?

“She wants to see you after school, doesn’t she?” Alex asked.

“She said ‘everyone was looking at me to perform’.”

“Man — you’re in! She wants you!”

“I don’t know.”

But I did know. I knew as I returned to the pavilion. I knew it when I decided to take a shower instead of just changing back into uniform like usual.

God, what was going on? I was in school for Christ’s sakes. I mean, was she still with her husband? What would it feel like? Would she want to start a relationship? What would happen if we were found out? There were laws against this!

I swallowed and stepped into the maths department, the place vacant, the lights still on. More than ever the corridors sounded with the silence of the kids that weren’t casino siteleri there. I was nervous but too horny to think straight. I navigated my way to the staffroom, knocked on the door. Nobody came. I turned the handle. It was empty.

I tried her classroom.

No-one; except, as I turned to leave, I heard footsteps behind me, coming from the dark of the cloakroom. I turned. Becky appeared, from the year below.

“What’re you doing?” She said.

“Nothing. I was just looking for your mum.”

“She’s tied up at the moment. It’s just me.”

I nodded. All this worry — It was so ridiculous, improbable.

“What did you want her for?” She asked.

“We were going to go over some things.”

“What things?”

“Just stuff.”

I should’ve run when I saw the staffroom was empty; at least jerked off in there to stop my mind from working.

“So you’ve been put in charge of our play this year. Rattigan? How is it?”

“All right. I get blisters from handling the wood.”

She smirked.

“What kind of wood?”

“Um, it’s some kind of MDF or MDF substitute…”

“You’re a hard worker, aren’t you? A lot of people look up to you, being head of a house.”

She sounded like she was flirting with me — badly. And what was I doing?

“There’re also a lot of people who think you’re a prick.” She said.

She looked out across the desks.

I stared at my watch, then at the markers on the desk. I had been indulging myself in a stupid fantasy that had no basis in reality. So what if Mrs. Greene flirted with me, it wasn’t uncommon. I’d seen The Graduate. Was it the fact I’d been raised by a single mother that I wanted her? Whatever it was I was still standing in the middle of an empty classroom with my dick in my hand.

I must have looked gormless because Becky took a breath and stopped me before I could take my leave.

“What’re you really doing here?” She asked.

“I told you –“

“You told me shit. I know why you’re here.”

I stared at her. She turned sour.

“You were here for her. What did you think was going to happen, you were going to turn up in that dank room and fumble around in the dark with your little rubber and put your hands on my mum and fuck her?”

“The hell are you talking about?”

“I’m not blind! Everyone knows about you two! Alex has spread it round the school like chicken-pox, how dare you?”

I snorted and shrugged and went through the motions of someone trying to answer.

“I was going to ask for help on the stage design!”

“Where’s all your paper?”

“Katherine’s got them. I mean, your mum has them. Look, whatever you heard from Alex, it’s garbage.”

“Katherine.” She said. “That’s disgusting. Did you give her a pet name too?”

“Fuck off, Becky.”

“Why don’t you!” She shouted.

I was taken aback. Her face was red. Her hair settled into a blonde mess, resting on her shoulder. Her mum looked like that when she had to tell someone off. It really got to her. But this was getting to canlı casino Becky and I hadn’t thought about what it would do to someone in her position. But I wasn’t about to let her broadcast it to the school.

“How can I make you shut up about this?”

“Are you admitting that came here,” she stammered “to f-fuck about with her?”

“I’m not saying anything! I need you to calm down and not talk to anyone; I’d be investigated, suspended, expelled!”

“That’s right! Your fucked up future is in my hands you prick!”

She looked unchained. The way I thought her mum would look in the middle of it. Ah, god, I felt dizzy with the implications of all this. I tried focussing on something; the bitemarks on the end of Katherine’s whiteboard markers, my damp palms, the last rucksack on the hook in the cloakroom.

Becky caught my eyes and looked behind her. She was much younger than her mother; my age. She had the same face, but Becky’s was brighter. She didn’t know what it was like to be her mum.

“You bastard,” she growled, “you’re thinking about it now, aren’t you? What are you doing to her?”

I backed against the wall.

“You’re touching her? You’re… taking her clothes off? What are you doing, you sick… are you fingering her? Did you even kiss her?”

The door handle was right there but Becky was getting in the way of it. I was in a daze. I was getting hard, even with her growling at me. Because she was growling at me. Just like her mum.

“You’re insane!” I said.

She grabbed my shirt in two big handfuls, pulling it from the waistband of my trousers. She pulled hard enough for the tension in my belt to pop a button.

“You think because everyone can’t get enough of you, you have the right to fuck anyone? My mother?”

I felt the air go out of my lungs as she slammed me against the whiteboard. My head swam. Her cheeks flushed. Threads of blonde hair trailed across her forehead and down past her nose. She had the same perfect, pouting mouth. I could see her pink tongue.

“This is how you’d do it? Huh?”

She just about bit me on the lips and I jerked my head back, knocking my skull against the frame of the whiteboard, and she went up on tiptoes and pressed her face into mine, kissing me. Her hand grabbed the back of my head and I felt the pressure of it there on the swelling. I was completely lost. She scoured my chest with her free hand, going around the back to tear away my shirt and then running her nails over my nipples. It was difficult to breathe. I was overwhelmed.

“You sick fuck,” she muttered, handling me like she was twice her strength, pulling me into her and then shoving me back. I put my hands on her shoulders, her working at my belt. I didn’t know what was happening, whether she was going to blow me or cut my dick off. She made a sound and slapped them away then threw herself into me to kiss. Her mouth was soft; I could see more of her body as she twisted and moved against me. Her open hand rubbed over my erection; it pulsed against my trousers. She kaçak casino wrenched me onto her, pulling me over to the desk — her mum’s desk — and I scattered the markers over the floor as I stood, her laying back for me. In a daze I split open her shirt like it was the skin on a fruit and pawed at her breast through her bra, watching her face change as she felt it pass through her. Her shoe hit the whiteboard and her legs rose up around my bum, drawing me in. I scrambled at my fly and let out my erection as she hiked her skirt up around her hips. “You fuck! Ah, you sick bastard!” She moaned, and with my fingers resting in the dip between her thigh and crotch I rubbed my thumb over the lips I could feel through her panties. I freed the condom from my trouser pocket and put it on and as she stared up at me with her neck raised, watching, I grabbed her waist and pushed into her.

She held very still at first and then curled her head round and the muscles in her stomach fluttered. I closed my eyes and started. I felt the tug at my bum each time I dug into her and I saw her not knowing what to do with her hands. She exhaled through her nose and mouth at the same time and I leaned back and tickled her at the apex of her thighs, running my thumb in circles round her clit. She swore at me and twisted her body and banged her head and I felt a glow rush through me as I thought she had come. I clamped my hand over her mouth to stop the noise and in the stillness I heard the slamming of a door further down the corridor. I froze. Becky pulled at me with her feet like she wanted to carry on but I pointed to the unlocked door of our room.

It had to be Katherine.

Becky’s mum.

I pulled out and tugged her, trailing our clothes into the recess of the cloakroom. We stood motionless while the door opened and someone sat down. All the markers were on the floor. The room reeked of sex. I wondered dimly whether she would be able to tell it had been Becky in here.

My head was vibrating with nervous energy and Becky took advantage of it and tugged on my cock. She put a finger to her lips in the dark. The rustling of papers and pens sounded from outside. Becky held onto the coat hooks and pulled herself up, the strain showing in her neck. I stared at her breasts, hidden behind the black softness of her bra, as she sank down on me and pressed into my chest. She made a sound as she let go of one of the hooks and, rubbing against me awkwardly, put her hand underneath us and stroked my sack. If she wasn’t going to give us away with her grunting, I knew I would when I came. I almost didn’t want to, but I looked at her, into the eyes that reminded me of someone else but were different and I felt the flesh of her tummy under my fingers and the way she moved with me, held against the wall by my cock and for the first moment I felt tenderness between us but then that went, pushed to the back of my mind as she rubbed my balls, kissed and stared at me with a look of amazement, and I pulsed and shook and clutched her tight and came into her, rasping, and she tried to stifle it with her mouth.

She dropped to her feet, about a foot smaller than I was and when I could hear again a voice from the classroom was asking all of a sudden: “Who’s there?”

And Becky looked up at me.

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